


Broadway's Callin'

by Shatterpath



Series: First and Third [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Peggy Carter, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Monsters, Sass, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Martinelli gets her first assignment. And there's a monster in the NY sewers. </p><p>What happens when you mix Agent Angie in the SSR crew, add a dash of fandom trope and enough sass to sink a U-boat? Let's find out shall we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broadway's Callin'

**Author's Note:**

> I confess that I have rarely laughed so hard writing something. In particular, the dialog in this was a scream; somehow even Thompson managed to not be a completely useless douche-canoe here and no one is more surprised than I was! Keep an eye out for duckies (still no clue where this one came from), Thompson screaming like a little girl, monsters and raw sewage and, bonus, stoned Peggy!

The visit to the Martinelli clan was put on hold when, not a week after Stella's surprise visit, Angie was called into Chief Thompson's office where she remained for long enough that even the most oblivious of agents were getting curious. Peggy was about to chew her own arm off with frantic worry, even if it barely showed.

"The guy's a jerk," Daniel soothed, consternated and strangely amused by Peggy's twitching. "But he's not gonna do anything. You've already knocked him out once and Angie's a firecracker. Besides, everyone in the office adores her."

It was an inadvertent reminder of how shabbily Jack treated them both since taking over Chief Dooley's empty post. Never in a million years would Peggy have guessed how much she would miss the older man, but the contrast of Jack's bullying desperation was a harsh reality. There was barely an agent that hadn't muttered something dire about the schmoozing peacock. But for all of Jack's idiocy, the others had remained at least civil to Peggy and they universally adored Angie. That the younger woman had willingly picked up much of the scut work once shoved off onto Peggy was not missed. That she sweetly foisted much of it back on the individual agents when they were plainly being sexist and lazy? That was not missed either. 

"She does have the diplomacy of an angel," Peggy said drily and Daniel chuckled.

"And the dogged persistence of a Saint Bernard."

That finally made Peggy huff in quiet amusement and relax enough to concentrate on her actual work and not fretting over her coworkers. It was unspoken fact that Peggy was a lousy diplomat. Oh, she could fake it briefly if she absolutely had to, but frankly, she'd much rather punch first and ask questions later. There was an undercurrent of aggressive violence she was always aware of, like a mean mongrel dog on a chain no one was sure would hold. She was a product of the land that birthed her, that scarred countryside stinking of death and fear. Rather than round her shoulders and breathe deep of that, Peggy bared her teeth and fought back. Acting civilized was just that, an act. She could fake being civilized extremely well, but the mean dog was always just under the surface. 

When the chief's door creaked open finally, there was a lull in the bullpen noise as Angie was framed there, holding a small stack of folders and loose papers.

"So, you good, kid?" Jack was asking where he held the door and Angie nodded, looking a bit bewildered, even shell-shocked. "Okay, keep me posted."

They both noticed the quiet and looked into the bullpen curiously, sending the collection of agents into a flurry of activity. A grin warmed Angie's face and her voice was teasing. "Aww, were you worried? That's sweet. Chief doesn't bite, he wouldn't dare."

For once Jack was discrete enough to merely roll his eyes and go back to his desk. At least until he hollered after the retreating woman, "and tell Carter and Sousa what's going on before their glaring lights my office on fire!"

Rolling her eyes in turn, Angie continued walking towards the back of the room, her expression getting more excited. "So, English, Danny boy, let a gal buy ya a drink and explain all the hush hush?"

Daniel beat Peggy off the mark, his tone dryly amused. "Angie, it's two in the afternoon."

"Trust me, you're gonna want a drink for this one."

~ * ~ * ~

That was how the trio found themselves three neighborhoods over in a smoky gin joint with the world's worst bourbon and a surprisingly decent beer on tap. 

"Ugh," Peggy complained at her lowball glass and the murky amber spirits within. "I'm not even American and this swill offends me."

Daniel snorted into his mug and Angie laughed at his slobbering on his tie. She'd taken a shine to the vet, despite their first impressions of one another, treating him like just another older brother and teasing Peggy about the hopeless little sputtering torch the man carried for her. While she could do worse, they had a little too much water under the bridge for Peggy to take the interest seriously. Thankfully, Daniel seemed to understand that and they had gradually returned to being at ease with each other. Angie secretly enjoyed taking some credit for that, for keeping everyone in the SSR as relaxed as possible with the same skills she had used for waitressing or for charming an audience. At least in the SSR, she could sass back and not rein in her emotions so closely. 

"Hey!" Angie protested as Peggy reached across the scarred table and plucked the beer mug out of her hand. With a hilariously delicate shudder, she drained half the mug and Daniel tightened his grip on his own. "Next round on you, moocher?"

Licking her chops, Peggy barely restrained a yeasty belch and stood up. "That's not bad. Be right back, duckies."

The two Americans chuckled together, still amused when their companion plonked down full mugs in triplicate.

"You're in a mood," Daniel observed idly as Peggy flopped down with a boisterous sigh and set to work on her drink.

"Well how often does the boss," the lilt of sarcasm there made them all grin, "send one off to a pub in the middle of the day?"

"Duckies?" Angie added and Peggy waved her off as though shooing a fly.

"I think I may have been channeling my grandmother for a weak moment. Now start talking, troublemaker."

There was another delay of their purpose there as Angie giggled like a naughty child in church, nearly spilling the nearly-empty first mug. "Yer a scream, Pegs."

The red-painted mouth was all smirky amusement against the heavy glass.

"So, some idiot has decided to make a live-action version of that radio show. Yeah, that one."

The smirk became a scowl and Angie really did fight the completely inappropriate amusement at the expressions running rampant on the other woman's face. She lost miserably, nearly falling out of her chair belly-laughing, but she did make a valiant effort. Daniel was torn between Angie's amusement and Peggy's fond irritation. They were a riot and he was pleased to be the only one in the SSR who ever saw them like this.

"So, I get to practice my various skills in a reasonably safe environment. Most of that long meeting was with Howard on the phone, sorting out who he knows and calling them to get me an audition that's only a formality."

"That seems a bit…" Peggy hesitated in finding the right word, bracing herself at Angie's evil grin.

"What? Whoring me out?"

Unfortunately, Daniel had missed the warning smile and choked on his beer, completely ruining his tie, sweater, shirt and possibly his slacks as well. "Chrissake, Martinelli," he coughed and Peggy left off her rubbing her own forehead to thump his back. "Warn a guy, willya?"

It was a good thing the bar was empty save one other patron, the bartender glaring half-heartedly at Angie's racket of laughter. "And ruin the punchline? No way!"

Feeling badly for ruining her friend's merriment, Peggy nonetheless spoke up. "You're certain you don't feel used somehow? Not that I don't think that you're not capable, because I know you are."

Remembering Angie throwing the other SSR agents off Peggy's trail when things had gone so wrong, Daniel nodded along as Angie picked up the thread again.

"Hey, acting is playin' pretend for a living, right? Hardly seems different than our day job and a heck of a lot less dangerous. My snake-charming both you and Jack back at the Griffith left enough of an impression that he immediately thought of me for this easy as pie assignment. If he wasn't such an arrogant idiot he would have brought one or both of you in on the idea because I know that you know that I can absolutely pull this off. And get a big break, which I'm gonna jump all over, because I'm a mercenary that way."

"If you're sure."

"Hey, think of it this way," abruptly Angie feigned a cartoonish imitation of Peggy's crisp accent. "Hey, darling, let me hand you the one thing you've wanted more than anything because me, the nice secret agent lady, thinks you're good enough to pull it off." Dropping the act, she smiled warmly at her pal. "Sure, I'm so insulted."

"Cheeky twit."

They glared affectionately at one another, completely amused and delighted. Daniel was just thankful to not have been nose deep in beer this time so that he wasn't left wearing more of it.

"Now, relax, Sister Margaret, I'll be fine. All I'm doing is keeping an eye on the involved parties to make sure they don't attract any weird attention and who knows, maybe Howard's influence can be used for the forces of good and I can nudge Betty Carver away from bein' such an airhead."

"Yes, that would be preferable. Wait, did you just make a nun joke?"

"Caught that, didja? Danny boy here is getting recruited to play manager or boyfriend while I'm doin' this. I can't take you, English, you're too damn distinctive. At least in bright light."

"You are truly irrepressible," Peggy marveled and Angie smiled smugly.

"And you love it, don't lie."

Quickly fortifying himself with the last of his beer and then the forgotten shot of what turned out to be as bad a bourbon as Peggy had complained about, Daniel nodded along. "Sure, whatever you need, name it."

The quiet that fell over them was inexplicably awkward for a moment, before Peggy caved in and spoke up in a neutral tone. "Your mother won't be thrilled by your schedule."

Angie didn't get a chance to react because Daniel decided it was his turn to sass. "You gettin' adopted by the Martinellis, Peggy?"

"Oh please, I live with their daughter, do you really think a proper Italian family isn't at least going to feed me until I can barely waddle?"

"Besides, my father hasn't had a chance to drool over you."

Neither of the older two agents were at all surprised that Angie still managed to get in the last word.

~ * ~ * ~

"Bloody hell, I'm going to kill them all, even if they really are some sort of mutant lizard men."

The virulent disdain in Peggy's voice frightened her companions and made nervous laughter difficult to swallow down. Right now, she seemed far more dangerous than whatever toothy monstrosity was stalking them in the New York sewers. Oh, the gang of crooks that thought they were clever to dress up and terrorize their corner of Harlem by drawling up through manhole covers weren't really worth the SSR's time, but the 'is it, isn't it' giant alligator like creature that had been reported in conjunction with a good dozen missing people and twice as many pets-- not to mention that horse and half a carriage? That was worth the SSR's time.

"Seriously, Stark, these things better not be yours."

Jack had been muttering hollow threats for hours into the modified gas mask that Howard had provided the teams with. In addition to keeping some of the overpowering stench away, the radio was built right in and there was even a special lens that picked up the ultraviolent beams of the special flashlights clipped to their M1 Thompson submachine guns. That Peggy was forced to rely on a teammate-- so to speak-- named Thompson was an irony that would amuse her later if they all got out of this intact. Howard, manning the distant radio hub with Sousa, was cheerfully ignoring or mocking Jack by turns. Peggy was going to shoot them both, rank and friendship be damned.

"Hey, my bad babies were reduced to their weight in paperclips, Jacko. I'll ship the things to ya if you really want them. Boxes and boxes of paperclips!"

"Damnit Stark…"

Growling something vile in a language Peggy wasn't even sure she actually spoke, she whipped around and grabbed Jack by his collar hard enough to rock him back on his heels. The wide-eyed terror behind the glass lenses was gratifying.

"Not. Another. Word."

Not the sharpest tool in the shed, Jack nonetheless remembered her saving his sorry carcass in Russia and later decking him unconscious and let the angry insubordination pass. His panic was only pissing her off and that was never a good thing. Maybe letting the panicked mayor talk him into taking this on with emergency speed hadn't been his best move after all. At least she was lucky enough to be dressed for the filthy work. His good work shoes were ruined.

"Chief Thompson, we've picked up four more just north of you. They're babbling about that pet of theirs eating several of their buddies."

The quiet voice on the radio got Carter distracted from possibly using him as bait, her footfalls silent in the sewage-thick water.

Jack wasn't proud of himself for the high-pitched shriek of panic that echoed through the filthy tunnel at the blur of dark movement, but it did give Peggy a split second warning. Throwing herself into the curved wall saved her left arm from being alligator chow and the jaws had clamped shut before its nose clipped Jack right in the face. The Tommy Gun chattered death and the monster roared and splashed. Shaking off the hit, Jack emptied his own clip into the blurry spray of water and slick-looking scales. Jeez but it was hard to breathe in here…

Peggy really did need to thank Howard for the handy lenses, the ghostly images of the thrashing creatures giving her just that hairsbreadth warning before the massive tail tried to crush her to jelly against the bricks. The hit still knocked the wind out of her, but better that than the fate of the shattered bricks.

Dropping the emptied machine gun to hang from its strap, she pulled out her trusty little Walther PPK and emptied that into the monster as well. At last its thrashing appeared to be death throes and she and Jack only had to keep from being crushed to death in the tight space now. Breath loud in the mask-- memories of wartime she could do without-- Peggy danced around the lashing tail until it finally began to quiet. Only then did Jack unload his own revolver into the thing, causing Peggy to roll her eyes. Well, at least this time he hadn't completely frozen.

Doing her best to shake off the burning in ribs and lungs, Peggy tried to catch her breath inside the mask, desperately wanting to rip it off, but knowing there was more than just stench this deep in the sewers. Howard and Daniel's voices were loud in the earpiece and she punched Jack in the knee to get his attention.

"Sorry! Guys, we're okay, stop beating your gums!"

Barely able to stand, Peggy leaned against the tunnel wall, not objecting when Jack slung an arm around her waist to get a good grip on the heavy belt and hauling her near-deadweight away from the creature. 

"The rest of you get over here and make sure this damn thing is dead. Me and Carter are outta ammo."

It was unusually diplomatic for Thompson, but Peggy didn't have the breath to sass him about it.

"Thank you again, Howard, for the modified clip," she finally managed to say hoarsely and begin to get her feet under her. "You were correct that fifty rounds are better than forty."

No one missed his deep sigh of relief, but his reply was jocular and lighthearted. "And quieter than that stupid drum! Didja get the monster? Save me a sample!"

The epic eyeroll did not need to be seen, it was plenty obvious in Peggy's voice. "Bring tweezers and you can have your pick before you hose me off."

"Done!"

A wracking round of coughing nearly sent both their weights sprawling into the filth, but Jack managed to brace himself. "You gonna live, Carter?"

She punched him in the gut hard enough to make him grunt, just on principle. There was none of the splintering pain of broken ribs, but her entire torso was destined to look like a tapestry of black and blue. Thankfully, she was fairly certain the coppery taste of blood in her mouth wasn't from the coughing but merely a cut lip.

"Thank god," Jack muttered as the shadowy rungs of a ladder wavered out of the darkness. "Got enough breath to hang on? I'll push."

Hoisting up Peggy's smaller body, Jack made sure she had a grip on the rusty rungs before he stepped in and planted his shoulder under her ass and pushed.

"You're no lightweight, Carter."

"Wanker," she sassed wearily and he was gratified to hear it. Even with her helping as best she could in the awkward position-- he was getting a hell of a crick in his neck-- he was exhausted by the time the whirr of car tires sounded overhead.

"Where are you at, Chief?"

"Dunno yet, Sousa. Give us a minute to get out of this damn hole and we'll figure it out. You braced, Carter?"

"Give me a moment."

Flashes of headlights shone through the tiny holes of the manhole cover, one of them blocked by Peggy's head. Her weight settled more heavily on Jack as they both braced themselves for the not insignificant weight of the iron disk.

"Go!"

With a ringing racket of sound, the manhole cover clattered away and Peggy shrank down, scaring ten years off of Jack's life as he lost half of his grip and his shoulders banged over to the other side of the hole. Some part of his brain wanted to crack a joke about the muscled softness half suffocating him, but he knew how deadly this woman was and managed to keep his mouth shut. Tires screeched and several horns sounded off. In the erratic light from above, a thick wheel narrowly missed the unexpectedly open hole in the street and Jack grunted for mercy as Peggy shrank down even further.

"Well, that's a new one," she said drily as the car above came to rest half over the hole. "C'mon then."

Helped by their dark clothes, the pair slithered out under the car and managed to slip away. Gasping for mercy, Peggy ripped the gas mask away and slid to the ground in an alleyway that would have been a stinking bog had they not just come from the dismal sewer.

"Those flowers had best have made it to the theater," Peggy muttered wearily. "You remembered, yes, Howard?"

"Hey! I never forget my best girls!"

"You're lucky that I'm too weary and too far away to smack you."

"Like I don't know that?"

Ignoring their chattering, Jack stripped off his mask to spit away the blood in his mouth and almost choked on the stench clinging to them both. Handing down his own Tommy, he stuffed his empty revolver into his jacket and walked back the way they'd come.

"You're not going to believe this, but we came out not two hundred feet from the LaFayette."

It was a busy night for the famous theater, a Friday with late spring rich in the air. 

"Good, we'll get there as soon as we can," Sousa said. "I'll leave Stark on the radio."

"Bring a truck, not a car. You'll never get the smell out of upholstery."

"Got it."

A stranger eyed them oddly and skirted around the stench to get to the street as soon as he could.

"Well, at least the stink will keep us safe from harm," Peggy sassed drily, groaning as she carefully laid out on the filthy alley floor. 

"You are one crazy dame," Jack couldn't stop himself from saying as he slid down the wall to squeeze in between her dark head and a grouping of trashcans to rub at his aching face. "You gonna be ok?"

"Nothing is broken and I'm not coughing up blood. I'll be fine. Your face is worse than mine."

"Yeah, and that's different how?"

It was a strangely comradely comment, reminding each of the trip to Russia and quiet fell over them. Squirming uncomfortably, Peggy made an irritated sound and Jack had the weirdest urge to do something comforting. Thankfully, her speaking up stopped that in his tracks.

"That looks bad. Lean over."

Curious, Jack did as he was told and shouted a strangled scream when her two hands rose up and roughly repositioned his broken nose.

"Holy Christ, Carter!"

Walking her shoulders to the side to avoid the gush of fresh blood from Jack's abused schnoz, Peggy impassively enjoyed his groaning and ranting.

"What the hell? Are you nuts?"

"Jack, your All-American good looks do nothing for me, but it seems only right to save your face, regardless. Resetting that nose would be a hundred times worse if you waited to do it."

He squirmed and kicked and held his aching face, but wisely didn't touch the worst of the burning pain. "Oh god, seriously, what is wrong with you?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Now stop whining, it's unbecoming."

Coughing cleared some of the blood from his throat, and annoyingly, once the initial shock wore off, it was quite clear that, yes, his nose was in a much more natural position now. He even managed to blow out some of the coagulating mess, even if the effort brought up more tears of agony. With time, he might even be able to breathe clearly again.

"How did you know we were at a theater?" 

Jack hadn't expected to speak, but found himself doing it anyway, hating the quiet that reminded him how she intimidated him.

"The sounds," Peggy answered wistfully. "I've gone to some of Angie's rehearsals. She's going to be so disappointed none of us are there."

Now, Jack Thompson was a self-serving bastard and he knew it, but he could have kicked himself. Martinelli was a good egg and deserved better than to be pushed aside by a mutant alligator in the stupid sewers.

"That was tonight."

It wasn't a question and Peggy nodded wordlessly.

"That sucks."

There was little to add to that.

~ * ~ * ~

It had been everything Angie had always dreamed of; the anticipation and terror and exhilaration. The bright lights and applause and the adoration from her family-- sans Leo, the jerk-- but there was no fighting that she had just plain missed Peggy. Yeah, Jarvis had shown up early to explain there had been a phone company emergency, and Miss Carter and Mister Stark sent their apologies for being taken away by work. That had been an awkward verbal tap dance with her family and Vince had teased that she was making up her 'English'.

"Seriously, Fancy," she growled at Jarvis as she escaped her clan and headed back into the theater to clean up and get her things. "You are the worst liar ever."

"I'm aware," he sighed and turned to the car to wait for her.

She'd received a ridiculous bouquet from Howard with a cheerful note of, 'break a leg!' and a sweet dozen red roses from her fake boyfriend that read, 'you're the best, Dollface,' but it was the late delivery that had come while she'd been onstage that made her grin. Only Peggy would do something as adorably unexpected as send a pair of sunflowers in a crowd of rich red and purple phlox. The little card was awash with her crisp handwriting, a match to that accent.

'Your star is rising, Sunny girl. Never hesitate, never look back. - English'

"Doesn't make up for missing out," she murmured and stroked the card, grinning like an idiot. "But it's a start."

Quickly scrubbing off the pancake makeup and changing into her own clothes, Angie happily handed off Howard's flowers to the other girls and begged off joining them in celebrating opening night. "My idiot boyfriend got himself into trouble and I gotta go!"

"Aw, how much trouble can a guy with a crutch get into anyway?"

Thinking of Peggy and not Daniel, Angie had to scoff in fond amusement. "You'd be surprised."

Manhattan was about as quiet as it could get for the wee hours of morning on a Saturday and they made good time home. Too exhausted to play Peggy's game with Jarvis, she let the man get the door and even hand her out. "Thanks, Fancy. And for stayin' up late for me."

"You're quite welcome Miss Martinelli. Once I collect Mister Stark, we'll be on our way."

"Howard's here?"

"Certainly. Who else would Miss Carter trust to sit up with her…"

It was then that Angie realized that Peggy hadn't missed opening night because of an SSR emergency. She'd become part of the emergency. Queasy with sudden fearful anger, she stalked to the door and fumbled it open only to be struck with a wisp of stench so acute it almost drove her back outside. "Saint Jemima, what is that?"

"The emergency," Jarvis supplied drily. "Or at least what's left of it. They will be in the master bedroom to be as far as possible from the stink."

"Yeah, good call."

Thankfully, the moment she headed towards her room the smell began to lessen. Tomorrow they'd air the place out for sure. 

"Well, at least you didn't pull this in the middle of winter," she announced herself with and instantly wished she hadn't been so flippant. Not only did a clearly dozing Howard nearly hit the ceiling, but Peggy was sprawled out boneless amid her sheets and didn’t even react. "Oh, Pegs, now what?"

"No, no, she's ok," Howard was quick to reassure, voice rough with sleep and rubbing his eyes. "There was some thugs and their pet mutant alligator in the sewers. Miss Union Jack here-- I'll explain that name later-- took a hit in the ribs."

"Piss off, Howard."

"There's my Pegs! She's doped up and complacent at the moment, you're welcome for that."

Nodding absently, Angie sat on the bed, studying the glitter of dark eyes barely open, black in the low light. They focused slightly when a gentle came to rest on her forehead. The dopey smile was adorable in a way Angie had never seen on her friend before. Something open and accessible had been brought out in her and Angie ate it up. "Thanks for the flowers."

"Jus' in case." 

Words slurred halfway to incoherency, Peggy didn't seem to either be aware or care in the slightest.

"Good call. I look forward to the story when you can think straight."

"Morphine," Howard supplied helpfully as he stood and stretched. "Just the one dose so that she'd get some sleep and then you have to deal with her. Sorry about that. Her middle looks like she tried to stop traffic with it, but the doc says there's no internal bleeding, so she's just gotta do some old-fashioned healing."

"Got it," Angie said quietly, not looking away from the glistening eyes, nor stopping her gentle stroking of Peggy's forehead.

"I'll bring by something almost as good tomorrow, I promise."

"If it glows green, tell him to go to hell."

Even Howard spluttered with laughter at that drowsy comment, Angie leaning down to rest her head on Peggy's shoulder. She didn't quite startle at Howard's hand on her back. "Sorry we missed your big night, kid."

"Thanks, Howard, I'm just glad everyone's safe. The silly play's not much better than the radio show anyway."

Peggy made a wordless sound of disgust that made her friends chuckle. For a moment, Howard laid his hand over Angie's, letting their body heat soak into Peggy's skin. "You rest and heal, trouble. Jarvis'll get that mess scrubbed up and returned to you. Heal."

"Yessir." She slurred, listlessly flopping a hand at him in some incomprehensible gesture. 

"Call if you need anything, Angie. And I mean anything."

She'd half expected some sort of leer on that comment, but he was completely sincere and it made her smile. "I will. Drive safe."

His footsteps faded away to the murmur of men's voice and the front door opening and closing once more.

"Sorry, I…"

Torn between fond amusement and a painful anger that Peggy was hurt, Angie shushed her. "Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll keep you company. You're in my bed anyway."

"'S'more comfort…able."

"I know. We're never gonna end up sleeping apart at the rate we're going."

Peggy only made a sloppy sound of amusement and agreement.


End file.
